Memories Not Remembered
by Settiai
Summary: Once upon a time, a vampire made a decision... and a day was erased from history. :: Gunn/Wesley


Title: Memories Not Remembered

Author: Settiai

Disclaimer: "Angel" and other related characters are all properties of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other related corporations. No infringement is intended. This story, such as it is, was written as a sign of respect and love for the characters, the show, and their creator. I claim no ownership of the aforementioned show and characters.

Rating: PG-13

Explanation: This is my story for the IWRY Ficathon on LiveJournal, and it was written for viciouswishes.

Summary: Once upon a time, a vampire made a decision… and a day was erased from history.

Feedback: Comments and helpful criticisms are always appreciated.

----------

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce woke up with a crick in his neck, a sharp pain in his side, and an aching ass. Mentally cursing himself for ever deciding to buy that damn motorcycle, he reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and glanced around the dingy hotel room he was staying in. Then, flinching as he stretched, he made his way toward the bathroom in order to get dressed.

He had been traveling for the last month, following closely behind a demon that had left a pile of corpses in its wake. The trail had disappeared in Denver, though, and Wesley had found himself without a clue as to where to turn next for well over a week. When one of his contacts had mentioned a rumor she'd heard about some strange happenings in Los Angeles, he had headed out straight away.

Even if it was nothing more than a rumor, he was willing to chase it just to get away from Bennie -- the six-and-a-half foot tall bouncer at a gay bar across the street from his Denver hotel. The man had absolutely refused to believe he was completely straight, no matter how many times Wesley had told him that little white lie. A few more days there, and Wesley might have had to tell Bennie that he just didn't find him attractive -- and he knew that would have ended with him being put into a full body cast.

Frowning at that thought, Wesley finished pulling on his shirt. Then he headed back into the main room and stopped in front of his bed. He glanced at the alarm clock sitting beside it, his frown deepening when he saw that it was already 9:00 in the morning. Shaking his head, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door. He quickly stepped out of the hotel room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Inside the room, the telephone suddenly started ringing.

"Damn," Wesley muttered, quickly reaching down to try fishing the room key out of his pocket. He quickly discovered that leather pants, while perhaps helpful in broadcasting his identity as a rogue demon hunter, were not entirely suitable for keeping track of a key to a hotel room.

Especially since he had left the key laying beside the alarm clock… on the other side of the door.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath as the telephone suddenly stopped ringing, Wesley turned and started toward the stairs. Hopefully it hadn't been an important call.

----------

"Want to tell me exactly what you think you're doing?"

Wesley blinked as the dark-skinned man sprawled on the ground glared at him. "Saving your life?"

"My life didn't need saving," the man snapped, pulling himself to his feet. "I was doing fine against that demon."

"Of course you were," Wesley said dryly, his eyes moving down to focus on the demon that was now sprawled out on the ground with a sword through its head. "I could tell by the way you were hanging three feet in the air with its tentacles around your neck."

The man started to retort, but he had to pause for a moment as Wesley's words sank in. "Okay, maybe I could have used a little help," he finally acknowledged.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "You don't say."

"What do you want?" the man asked with more than a little exasperation. "A 'thank you' for saving me?"

"A name would be nice," Wesley replied, grinning slightly.

"Oh, for the love of…" The man rolled his eyes. "The name's Gunn. Charles Gunn."

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Wesley said, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Gunn stared at him. "Can't say the same," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Wesley's hand dropped, but his grin didn't fade.

His grin lasted for exactly five more seconds, fading instantly as the dead demon's mouth suddenly dropped open in order for a stream of orange liquid to shoot out. Within seconds, both of them were covered in the goo.

Gunn immediately started stripping, running toward the dingy-looking beach that the alley opened onto as he did. "You might want to loose the clothes and head toward the water," he called out.

"Kraw'gjo demon," Wesley shot back, dropping various garments as he hurried toward the beach himself. "Acidic venom. I'm not an idiot."

"Could've fooled me," Gunn muttered.

----------

"I can't believe this," Wesley said, his eyes focused on something on the other side of the bars.

Gunn rolled his eyes. "Neither can I," he grumbled. "There wasn't even anyone on that beach. How can that be considered public nudity? I'd like to give that cop a good…"

"What?" Wesley turned around and glanced at Gunn. "No, I'm not talking about us being in a holding cell."

"Then what the hell are you mumbling about?" Gunn demanded. "Is this about that cop giving us clothes that smell like they came from a dumpster? Or the fact that you're missing a good chunk of hair from that orange gunk?"

Wesley gestured toward the open door. "See that blonde detective in the next room?"

Gunn craned his neck a bit and then nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "Pretty hot, I guess, but the dark-haired one beside her is definitely hotter."

"That's who I wanted to point out to you," Wesley said, a rather surprised look on his face. "Her name's Cordelia Chase, and we… well, I was her date at her prom. I didn't know that she was in Los Angeles, though. "

"So you're a cradle robber, huh?" Gunn asked, without blinking an eye. "Huh. Never would have guessed. And I wasn't talking about the girl, actually."

At that, Wesley did a double-take. "Don't tell me you're talking about Angel?" he asked with more than a little disbelief. "He's a vampire. One with a soul, but still…"

Gunn glanced over at him for a moment. "A vampire? You're friends with a vampire?"

"Friends is much too strong of a word." Wesley shook his head emphatically. "Much, much, much too strong."

Shaking his head, Gunn glanced back over at the group they had been watching. "What about the guy with the weird hair? You know him too?"

Wesley froze for a second before letting out a snort. "I guess you weren't talking about Angel after all," he said lightly.

"Really?" Gunn asked, grinning slightly. "So who's the other guy? The cute one with the black hair?"

"Not a clue," Wesley replied with a shrug, walking over to the other side of the cell.

"What about the cute blonde that just joined them? You know her?"

Rolling his eyes, Wesley made his way back over to Gunn's side. One look through the door made him grab the other man's arm and drag him out of the group's line of sight, though.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Gunn said, smirking.

Wesley glowered at him

----------

"Thanks for paying the bail money," Gunn said, nodding at Wesley. "And I'm still waiting to hear how you managed to bribe that guard into bring us Thai food while we sitting inside that holding cell."

Wesley gave him a slight grin. "Let's just call it a gift."

"A gift, huh?" Gunn asked, raising an eyebrow. "Does this gift work on anyone other than police officers who are holding you for public nudity?"

Rolling his eyes, Wesley started toward his motorcycle.

"Man, you need to get laid bad don't you?"

Wesley froze mid-step, his mind running over what Gunn had just said. It took a second, but his brain finally wrapped itself around the other man's meaning. He turned around, a disbelieving look on his face. "Excuse me?"

Gunn shrugged. "I haven't seen someone as uptight as you since… ever."

"And, for some reason, this makes you think I need to have sex?" Wesley asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Hell yeah," Gunn shot back, his eyes moving over Wesley thoughtfully. "If you're interested in women, I know a few girls who'd have no problem with having a little no-strings fun." He smirked a bit. "And if you're interested in guys, then I know at least one who'd be willing to have a go with you."

At that, Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Are you propositioning me?"

"Hell yeah."

"I see." Wesley paused for a second and cocked his head. "Actually, I don't see. Didn't you say just a little while ago that you hated my 'pompous British ass?'"

Gunn shrugged. "That was before I spent… however many hours it was crammed in a cell with you," he replied. "Plus, it's been one crappy night. I could use some relaxing."

He gave Wesley a pointed look. "Do you want me to call those girls?"

Wesley stared at him for a second. "You're insane, aren't you?" he asked, his mouth twitching slightly as he repressed a smile.

Gunn gave him another pointed look, and Wesley finally smiled. "Is this where I ask you whether we're going to my place or yours?"

"Nope," Gunn replied, suddenly taking off toward Wesley's motorcycle. "This is where we head back to your place and fuck each other senseless."

Wesley stood there for a moment, before reaching up and pulling his glasses off of his face. He wiped them on his shirt for a second, and then put them back on his face.

It didn't help. Gunn was still there, standing beside Wesley's motorcycle and waiting impatiently for him to catch up. "Los Angeles is definitely an interesting place," Wesley mumbled before making his way toward Gunn.

----------

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce woke up with a crick in his neck, a sharp pain in his side, and an aching ass. Mentally cursing himself for ever deciding to buy that damn motorcycle, he reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and glanced around the dingy hotel room he was staying in. Then, flinching as he stretched, he made his way toward the bathroom in order to get dressed.

He had been traveling for the last month, following closely behind a demon that had left a pile of corpses in its wake. The trail had disappeared in Denver, though, and Wesley had found himself without a clue as to where to turn next for well over a week. When one of his contacts had mentioned a rumor she'd heard about some strange happenings in Los Angeles, he had headed out straight away. Even if it was nothing more than a rumor, he was willing to chase it just to get away from Bennie -- the six-and-a-half foot tall bouncer at a gay bar across the street from his Denver hotel. The man had absolutely refused to believe that Wesley was straight.

Frowning at that thought, Wesley finished pulling on his shirt. Then he headed back into the main room and stopped in front of his bed. He glanced at the alarm clock sitting beside it, his frown deepening when he saw that it was already 9:00 in the morning. Shaking his head, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door.

And he froze.

A strong feeling of déjà vu rushed over him, and he glanced around the room with some uncertainty. After he was certain that no one was there, he chuckled. "I've lost my mind," he said dryly. Turning around, he put his hand on the doorknob…

…and let out a yelp as the phone suddenly starting ringing.

Wesley let out a sigh as he turned around and walked over to the telephone. Picking it up, he dropped down onto his bed. "Hello?" he asked tiredly.

His eyes widened a bit as the person on the other end spoke, and Wesley couldn't help but let a smile begin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're certain that it's the demon I was following?" he asked. "Fine then, I'll leave for Phoenix immediately."

He hung up the phone and quickly stood up to pack up his meager belongings. Before he started, though, he paused for just a second. It felt almost like he was forgetting something important…

"I'm insane," Wesley muttered. "There's no question."


End file.
